


Rockabye

by Gr8PwrGr8Rspnsblty



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Absent Parents, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And dad problems, Baby Chase, Basically Chase’s Mom got Problems, Basically House and Wilson adopting Baby Chase, Child Neglect, Childbirth, Drugs, Established Greg House/James Wilson, Gay Parents, Greg House and James Wilson Being in Love, Greg House is Bad With Emotions, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James Wilson (House M.D.) Lives, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Meeting the Parents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Greg House, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Tags May Change, Teen Pregnancy, and he’s not even alive yet, duh - Freeform, he’s got a lot of problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gr8PwrGr8Rspnsblty/pseuds/Gr8PwrGr8Rspnsblty
Summary: “Whether your pregnancy was meticulously planned, medically coaxed, or happened by surprise, one thing is certain – your life will never be the same.” – Catherine JonesMarriage was suppose to be the last step of life. Nobody dared bring up the topic of children since House wasn’t a kids person as he struggles with addiction. Life was bound to stay the same for the Wilson-House household. Until a late clinic visit, House finds himself entangled into a random homeless pregnant addict life. He isn’t sure why he’s so intrigued by the situation but soon finds himself along for the ride.ORStory of how House and Wilson adopt our favorite baby wombat, Chase.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson, Lisa Cuddy & Greg House & James Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	1. Clinic Duty

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: SENSITIVE TOPICS FOLLOW. SPOILERS.
> 
> Mentions of Drug Use and Alcohol while pregnant. Homelessness. Mentions of vehicular accidents.

“Have you ever wanted kids?” 

The question was asked by Cuddy on a whim one Sunday evening. Wilson had just about comb through his latest patient file, debating what to tell the sickly patient about their treatment when the woman walked in. 

“Oh wow, um I’m honored but you can see where that might cause a little trouble?”

“House has really been rubbing off on you,” Cuddy states, taking the seat normally he’d direct his patients to sit. 

“I am married to the man.” 

“You and House never talked about getting a kid?”

Wilson blinks, glancing up the woman sitting across from him. 

“You do know who you’re talking about. House. The man who would rather insert a catheter in himself than spend a second with another human being.” 

“Come on, don’t you want kids Wilson?” Cuddy pries. 

“Okay I’m officially confused as to why the Dean of Medicine is inquiring about children.” 

“Because, you and House are in a stable relationship and it would be nice having a little Wilson or House running around. Preferably the first option. Seems less likely to set the hospital on fire if they don’t get what they want.” 

Wilson takes a moment to ponder. He never really considered children. Maybe with his last two relationships but now, the thought of offspring never crossed his mind. Especially not when he married House. The man was an addict, narcissistic, and very cold. Though he knew through those cold rough layers there was at least a tiny shred of caring human being. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d trust House with a fully grown human let alone one that can barely feed themselves. 

Unfortunately for Wilson, his pause gave Cuddy the wrong impression. Seeing as her body peeks up and the grin curls up her lips. 

“ _You totally want kids!_ ”

“You’re imagining things,” Wilson states, standing from his desk. 

“Oh my god please tell me I get to be the godmother of the future House Wilson child!”

“ _Imagining!_ ” Wilson throws back, picking up his jacket and case. It was about time he should head home or he’ll end up running his husband into the lobby who’ll drag him away to do god knows what. Lucky for him, they came here separately today. 

Wilson didn’t make it two feet towards the elevator when a familiar face stops him.

“Where are you going? You’re gonna miss our new patient.”

“I’m sorry, our?” 

“Yeah, girl came in after falling out of the car. Internal bleeding, broken leg, arm...”

“What’s the catch?”

“Seeing as all the things listed above would keep a normal person in bed, why is she being detained by the receptionist as we speak?” Wilson glances down from the top floor in time to see a young girl standing up straight without crutches at her disposal, fighting against orderlies. She seemed to be screaming as she fended off security. All seemed to be going extremely downhill until one of the men managed to get a grip on her giving Foreman time to swoop in and administer what he could only assume is general anesthesia. 

“Well that’s not a sight you see every day.” 

“Yup. Either she’s high off her rockets or she’s got some freakishly good pain tolerance.” Just as the sentence left the taller man’s mouth, he pops a vicodin. Wilson sighs, rolling his eyes.

“I thought we talked about this, no medicine unless you actually truly need it.”

“What? I’m hungry.”

“You know normal people would go to the cafeteria and get food when hungry. Not pop a pill.”

“Thanks but I’m trying out this new diet called kiss my ass.” In retaliation, the older man pops another to make sure the other man could clearly swallow.

“That’s it, I’m confiscating this. No pills until tomorrow and say hi to the couch when you get home.” 

“Hey! You know to normal people it’s considered morally wrong to steal a cripples medicine!” 

“Good luck with Debrah Miceli down there,” Wilson states, stepping over to take the stairs to make his escape. 

“What about our case?!”

“Do you hear something?” Wilson says out loud, pretending to look around. 

“Oh very funny.” 

“Try not to come home late!”

“Damn you Wilson,” House mutters as he watches his husband walk away down the staircase knowing full well he couldn’t follow. He could just watch the very cocky doctor walk away from him. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


House was sitting in his conference room, looking over his two ducklings. Foreman and Cameron had their head stuck on the bored, drifting in between sleep and work. 

“She clearly can’t feel pain. Why is that?” 

“We had that patient, the one who jumped like some sort of Olympic diver off the second floor- she had CIP-“

“No, CIPA would’ve been present at birth. She’d have been diagnosed or had her bed moved six feet under the ground.” 

“Yeah, parents claimed she had a normal childhood. No complaints,” Cameron notes, her head shaking.

“Well if Foreman hadn’t drugged her, we probably could’ve asked her.”

“Girl was manhandling two guards! Somebody would’ve gotten hurt,” Foreman protests. 

_Knock, knock_.

“Busy!”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” A nurse opens the door, “but Cuddy wanted me to inform you that due to lack of staffing you’re needed downstairs.” 

“Tell Cuddy I’m busy,” House fires back. 

“She knew you’d say that. So she told me to tell you that if you don’t help she’ll double your clinic duties.” 

House clutched the end of his cane, gritting his teeth. Of course. There was always a catch.

“MRI the patient's brain. If my theory is right, she’s had this problem for a few months. Judging by the terrible condition her body was in when she came.”

House limps away, begrudgingly following the nurse leaving behind his two minions to carry on his work. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Welcome back House.”

Cuddy greets him as soon as she sees the crippled doctor head her way. 

“I was in the middle of a case-“

“Short on doctors today. You just happen to be her and not be off until-“ Cuddy glances at the clock. “-an hour from now. So suck it up.”

House glances to the ocean of people waiting inside. He groaned, feeling the life suck out of his body. This was not going to be easy on his head. 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll actually learn a thing or two about helping people other than yourself,” Cuddy states, picking up a stack of flies and handing it over to him. With a confident scheming smirk, she walks off towards her office. Not before looking at one of the receptionists and saying, “Make sure he gets through all the patients and no slacking off.” 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Boring patient after boring patient. 

One thought he was dying of pneumonia, another one with the common cold, two in need of stitches, three allergy prescriptions, and one looking for a get out of work free pass. All extraordinary stupid and boring. The moment he saw the clock hit nine, he was out of his seat, dropping files into the trash. 

“Hey you’re suppose to put them-“

“Oh I’m sorry, they must’ve slipped right out of my hand. Butter fingers,” House shrugs, showing off his hands. “Sadly because of my leg, I can’t be bending over to fix this terrible mistake I made.” 

The nurse can only glare before giving in and picking up the files herself, placing them right where they belong. He was about to walk off when a sight caught his eye. Most of whatever rush that went by was over. No crowded seats. Except for one person. A girl. Dressed head to toe in warm gear. Beside her, a cop who looked like he was about to have a stroke from the raw frustration in his face. She seemed too focused on her fiddling hands than the man staring at her. 

“Who’s that?” House asks.

“Just some girl off the streets. Cops want the clinic to check her out before anything. Unfortunately Doctor Willam is running a few patients behind-“

House glances towards the clock one last time noting he was now a minute behind. 

“You with the blond hair!” The patient takes a moment before raising her head. She glances around, seeming almost shocked.

“I can see you.” House picks you the last lonely file left.

“Finally. We’ve been waiting for hours!” The cop crosses his arm, shaking his head. 

“Sorry about the wait, unfortunately the last doctor dropped dead. So guess you’re stuck with me.” The nurse behind him rolled his eyes yet looked the other way. 

“This way,” House gestures for the patient to walk in. However she seemed keen on staying seated. It wasn’t until the cop yanked her up did she get a move on. They walked into the clinic room before suddenly stopping. House turns to the cop saying, “Sorry pal, can’t let you in.”

“The girl is a flight risk. She’s tried to run at least ten times before we even got here-“

“I’ll make sure to keep a good eye on her then. Make sure she doesn’t pull a Houdini inside a closed office space.” House shuts the door right in the officers face, rolling his eyes after he did so. 

“Some story, huh?” House states. 

Silence greeted him. The girl doesn’t seem to make even the slightest effort to appear friendly or even sociable.

“Well then, the nurses' vitals show normal. So really all I’ve got to do is ask you a few questions then you can go sleep in whatever cell Mister Cop is gonna throw you in.” 

Again no response. 

“Well first being, name?” This earns a shift in gaze. Progress. “You told the nurse your name is Susan Pevensie. Now I know you don’t go traveling through wardrobes for your free time so best come clean.” Again no comment. It was starting to get a little frustrating. Usually he’d be forced to listen to some long list of excuses. Not only was this girl being difficult, she was clearly lying. 

“Okay, if you’re not going to talk I’ll just call Mister hardass back in here to take you away. Make sure to be nice to your cellmate. I’d hate for you to have to be wheeled back in here.” House stands, leaning towards the door, about to swing it open when-

“Charlotte Brown.” 

“Oooh an accent? British?”

“Australia.” The woman corrects, green eyes meeting his. 

“Same thing.” House shrugs, setting himself back down on the seat. Finally something. He was just about to regret staying. 

“Age?” 

“25.”

“Wrong. Your jawline is sharp and the skin under the eyes is smooth which points to you being younger. Try again.” 

The patient, Charlotte, bites her tongue, glancing away for a moment. Clearly she hadn’t expected anyone to ask.

“My guess is teens but what do I know? I’m just a doctor with a medical license.” 

“18.”

“For the sake of my patience, let’s just go with this “ _I'm a legal adult”_. Makes my life easier. Less paperwork.” Whatever tension in the room had been there began to ease away, shoulders slowly slipping down from the girl. 

“Judging by those clothes, you’ve got a cozy box waiting for you to go back to?” 

“What does that matter?”

“It matters cause I need to know if you take drugs. So, lit up a few joints with your box neighbors? Or do you prefer the needle to vein?” Charlotte opens her mouth to argue yet is cut short by House’s rough unwelcoming voice cutting her off. “Don’t bother lying. Nurse already took urine. Results will be back soon. So save me the waiting.” 

“It takes my edge off.” 

“Of course it does.”

“I don’t do it often. Only when the bottle doesn’t take the edge off.” That last part came out as a mumble. Like some sort of confession. 

“In that case, I’m sure that makes it okay!” Instinctively, House’s hand reaches down to where his pocket medication would be only to remember the events earlier. His hand drops, frustrated. 

“Sexually active?” 

“Why? Want to pay for an hour?” This generally caught the older man off guard, brows kittining. “I’m yanking your chain.” 

“Duly noted, sense of humor is still intact.” 

_Knock, knock_. 

The door drifts open, the nurse from earlier. “Lab sent over the urine results-“

“Oh goody. More work.” House grabbed the file, taking it into his hand. He doesn’t wait a second before opening it. Moments passed before House began to speak.

“What an interesting result.” House doesn’t look up. Eyes glue to the words on the paper. “Not only did you test positive for heroin in your system dating back to at least a day ago, you’ve also got trances of alcohol. Though, you already knew that-“

Any sense of humor is stopped dead in its tracks. The once somewhat playful exterior is replaced with a stone cold expression.

“Oh great.” House sighs glancing up at the young girl before him. “You’re pregnant.” 

Charlotte’s head dips. Falling in shame. Or maybe guilt. It was hard to tell. Her fingers curl, clutching the bed.

“Explains the obnoxious bundling. Hides it perfectly. Judging by your facial expression you aren’t shocked so you must’ve known. My guess, a few months.” 

“Five months.“

“Impressive.” House nods. “Barely noticed.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

“Don’t. You just want to make yourself feel better.” 

The girl doesn’t say anything. She just clutches the patient chair like it was some sort of thing protection against the world crumbling around her.

“Assuming you’re at least half competent, you saw a doctor that prescribed you-“ House is cut off by the hysterical woman shaking her head. “Okay, scratch that. Clearly your brain is the size of a pebble and you didn’t do that.” 

“ _I can’t afford_ -“

“Yeah cause you live in a box, I get that. But you haven’t even tried to get help this far along is just mind melting.” House wasn’t sure what was more frustrating, the new news or the now breaking down woman before him.

“I tried to stop but the pain...I can’t. It hurts too much,” She wallows. 

“Mommy can’t handle a little pain so she puts her unborn fetus through it all,” House stands. Unbelievably, the inside of him was burning itself to a crisp. A deep eternal flame that wouldn’t settle within him. 

“I can schedule you a sonogram. See how much of this kid you messed up before they’ve even breathed their first breath then I’ll inform Mister Hardass of the situation. He won’t be thrilled to hear that a patient will be admitted considering he hates you but oh well.” House swings the door open silently, close to hobbling out.

“Where are you going?” 

“Home. Nurses will take care of you overnight to make sure you don’t dose up tonight meaning tomorrow will feel like a total bitch. Trust me.” 

The door behind him closes shut. Marking the end of that.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Wilson was sitting at the couch, eyes trained on the tv as he placed a meatball in his mouth. He was never the best with food but at least this one happened to be cooked through. 

The door opens, revealing House.

“What took you so long? It’s nearly an hour past your shift end?” 

“Clinic duty. Cuddy deemed it necessary to drag me away from my case and put me in Clinic Duty because of short staff,” House states with a hint of resentment.

“Short staff? What are you talking about? Lillian and Liam were in today.”

Realization hit Wilson like a freight train, pushing into him silent awe at the relaxation. That was something Cuddy probably didn’t want House to know.

“Are you kidding me?! I spent nearly an hour mindlessly listening to people complain about nothing only to find out those two bozos could’ve been doing that instead?!” 

“Ugh…” Wilson sighs, dropping his head safely onto his palm. “Cuddy is gonna kill me.” 

“Not before I have a word with her!” House picked up their landline, dialing in the number digits he’s remembered all too well. 

“House, don’t do this-“

“You lie,” House states into the phone, tone low with building anger. Though Wilson couldn’t hear the other line, he just assumed by the expression’s on his husband’s face, it wasn’t good. 

“I can talk to people perfectly fine! It’s not my fault the people generally on the other end are too stupid to understand!” Like a child throwing a tantrum, House made a point to be as loud and obnoxious as possible. 

“House, either shut up or your next Vicodin prescription is coming late.”

“You already took away my happiness? Wanna eliminate it?” House harshly whispers to the sitting male.

“No, I want you to settle down before the landlord and neighbor shows up with pitchforks and fire!” Wilson tells him, watching the grown man he’s married switch between conversations. 

“You owe me a week free from Clinic Duty for the emotional distress you put me through...five days….four. Fine, three days!” Without a goodbye, the phone is hung up with a certain bang. 

Wilson watches the man limp down the hall unsure if he should prepare himself for endless humiliation or dealing with a cranky husband. 

The moment he heard the bathroom door slam shut, he knew his answer. Quickly his scoops up his plate and drink, bracing himself for the rest of the night.


	2. Best For The Patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARING, SPOILERS:
> 
> Mentioned drug usage while pregnant. Substance abuse. A lot of sexual jokes at one point in the chapter (not sure if it counts but what the hell).

“You look better this morning.” 

“That’s because I spent the whole night scheming.” House limps into the kitchen, grabbing the plate handed towards him. Fake toaster waffles and heat up sausage.

“Maybe after this, a heart attack will trick Cuddy into freeing me from Clinic Duty.” 

“Shut up and eat,” Wilson tells him, pouring himself a cup of joe. 

“I would but unfortunately, my conscience is telling me to abort the mission. I think I’ll starve over heart failure.”

“You and I both know that you don’t have a conscience.” Wilson sips that warm sugary coffee drink, barley flashing the other man a glance. 

“Must’ve suddenly been brought to life by the fact you suck in the kitchen.”

“Do you want another night on the couch?” Wilson warns. Though most of the time these threats would falter by the time nightfall hit but the tone this time was threatening enough for House to know his leash was suddenly shortened immensely. One more bite and it was the crate. 

“Not my fault you have such horrible kitchen skills.” 

“Wow that couch is practically rolling itself out.” That was the last comment made on Wilson’s cooking before the topics switched. 

House eyes trail to the cabinet, locked and away from his grasp. Yet what was inside was all he could feel. The cool hard plastics brushing against his skin, bumps where paper met plastics, the rattling of a dozen happy pills waiting to ingest. 

“Not even an hour after getting ready for work do you think about Vicodin.” 

“What can I say, old habits die hard,” House shrugs. “Now can the man with the leg pain get his medication back?”

“On the condition, you’ll try to cut down on the amount of pills you pop.” 

“Fine. Just, gimmie.” Wilson takes a second to sigh, dramatically rolling his eyes before turning to the cabinet. He tried not to seem as upset as he actually felt. This was one of the many things he had to deal with. It was practically in a contract he had to sign when getting involved with him. 

“Oh wow, I feel better already.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


House and Wilson managed to enter the hospital for the matter of seconds before House was approached by Foreman.

“MRI shows a meningioma growing on top of Parietal lobe. It controls-“

“Sensation, handwriting, and body position,” House finishes. “Skull is a small space, and must be putting pressure on the area.” 

“Normally Meningioma aren't that much of a concern because they’re usually slow growing and don’t really show symptoms.” 

“Exactly. Because it took so long to show up, the girl and her family weren’t aware of the changes. She doesn’t realize it either. The no pain, bad vision-Get her prepped for surgery.”

“Performing any surgery inside the brain is dangerous. This mass is pretty big. One wrong move-“

“She’ll die without it. Pain is a survival mechanism. .” 

Foreman huffs, shaking his head. Eyes turn to Wilson, who was starting a small chat with the Receptionist.”

“I don’t see what you like about this man that justifies marrying him,” Foreman tells him before walking away. 

“Frankly, I wonder about that myself too.”

“Shoo!” House calls out after him, giving a small glare before turning to Wilson. “Really? Must you talk to my staff and distract them?” 

“Foreman started it,” Wilson points out. 

“ _Foreman started it,_ ” House mimicked, teasing the other man. 

“And I’m out. _Good luck!_ ” Wilson separates himself from the situation, walking the direction towards his office.

“What no goodbye kiss?” House calls out after him.

Wilson raised the middle finger as he walked away, leaving the doctor alone in the front. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Wilson opens the door to his office, setting down his case and coat on the door. Ready to start the day. 

The door behind him closed shut, frightening the oncologist. He spins around to find Cuddy with her hand to the door, looking at him. 

“You're five minutes late. House refuse to leave the house on time?”

“Were you just standing there? Waiting for me to come in?” Wilson asks, bewildered at the sheer determination of the woman before him. 

“Maybe. Answer the question.” 

“Well, he thought showing up on time was too much of a hassle.” 

“Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“So are you just gonna stand there all day or are you here for a reason?” Wilson asks, setting himself down on his chair, eying the other woman. 

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I might have gone overboard with the whole kid Wilson-House conversation.”

“Well I most certainly wasn’t expecting that,” Wilson admits. 

“I’m not House. I can admit it when I make a mistake.” Wilson nods. Now that was true. Apologies are like pulling teeth. No matter how much you pull, House will never stop fighting it. 

“But-“

Wilson groans, rolling his eyes. Of course, nothing was ever that simple. There was always a catch to these things. 

“I know somebody who’d more than be willing to push you past the waitlist for a surrogate-“

“House doesn’t even know you’re asking me this and you’re practically already picking out baby names.” 

“Having a kid is such a wonderful experience Wilson, getting to watch this little bundle of joy grow up and thrive! It’s amazing!” 

“Well, House would beg to differ.” Wilson raises a brow. 

“Rachel would love a playmate.” 

“So get her into preschool instead of telling your colleagues to get one.” 

“So that’s it? You seriously don’t want kids?” 

“I’m old and House is a kid himself.” 

“I don’t believe it for a second. House may be an ass but he can be civil. Soon that paternal instinct is gonna kick in and don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” 

“House and paternal instincts don’t belong in the same sentence,” Wilson tells her, not even looking at her.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“A meningioma is a tumor that arises from the _meninges_ —the membranes that surround your brain and spinal cord. Although not technically a brain tumor, it may compress or squeeze the brain. Which is exactly what it’s doing to your brain.”

Right as Foreman finished, House, who stayed devilishly quiet during the whole speech, was scheming. 

“Does that mean she’s gonna be okay?” The mother asks, clenching her husbands palm, glancing between the two doctors. 

“Luckily it’s opratable. However we won’t be sure if she’ll suffer any side effects afterwards. Though removing the tumor should cure her of her symptoms now.”

House fiddles with his pocket, pulling out a pin. A small thin pin that would normally be found in some grandma’s sewing kit. 

“But, she seems perfectly fine-“ The father begins to state, his expression full of worry and concern.

Without any warning, House stabs the patient, who remained freakishly calm during most of this, right in the leg. 

“House!” Foreman exclaims, eyes wide.

“What the hell-“ The parents spring up, alive and alert as they watch their supposed doctor stab their daughter in the leg. 

“What is wrong with you?! She’s hurt!” The Father exclaims.

“No she isn’t,” House nonchalantly throws out there.

Parents look over to their daughter. Eyes wide. Despite having a needle in her leg, she kept a straight face. Her eyes looked glossier than her glasses lense. 

“It didn’t hurt,” The Patient mutters, staring at where the needle sat. 

“Of course it didn’t. Tumor is doing that to you. Messing up your receptors. Your daughter can’t feel pain.” House then decides to push things a little further, grabbing the glasses right off the kid’s face and placing them on him.

“Yowza, you’re blinder than a mole rat,” House comments, blinking wildly as double vision crosses him. “Unfortunately where the tumor is located, it’s also putting pressure on the Occipital lobe. Probably why your vision only goes downhill.” 

“House stop being a jerk.” Foreman tells him, rolling his eyes. 

“So with the surgery, she’ll regain her vision and ability to feel?” 

“Yup. Sounds about right,” House confirms, taking off the glasses. “Wow! How do people do this? It’s horrible.” House threw the glass back on the bed carelessly, turning to the patient. “Lucky girl, you won’t be needing those any longer. Maybe then you’ll actually have a shot making friends.” 

The girl just blinks, looking up at House for a moment, squinting. 

“So I’m gonna be okay?” She asks.

“Medically, yes. Emotionally, I highly doubt it.” 

With that being said, House hobbles out, smirking cockily over to Foreman, who just glared at him the whole way. He could’ve sworn the man’s hands twitch, imagining them cocking out his boss.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“You’re disgusting.” 

“Hey, pickles aren’t that bad,” Wilson defends, holding his sandwich up. 

“They’re a disgrace to this world. Right after humanity.” 

“You’re just mad because you can’t steal my lunch anymore,” Wilson points out helpfully. House looks off, pouting like a child. Sighing, he tries to fix the situation, saying, “Just eat your sandwich if you’re that desperate. It’s just how you like it or suck it up.”

“What’s good about a sandwich if I don’t steal it from you?” House mumbles.

“You’re being a child.” 

“Coming from the man who won’t share his lunch.”

“You’re more than welcome to take a piece. Just pick the pickles out and eat it.”

“Your pickles already _infected_ the sandwich. Might as well let me eat dry concrete with cement paste and call it sandwich.” House snatches the apple from Wilson’s lunch, noting it was better than nothing. 

“Oh you poor man, want me to kiss you to make you feel better?”

“Not with your pickle infested mouth you won’t.” 

Knock, knock.

“ _I’m naked, come back later!_ ” Wilson throws a napkin at House, glaring at him.

“No he’s not!” Wilson stands up, opening the door. To the poor unfortunate soul at the door, a med student. Their face pale as if they walked into a porn studio instead of an office building. 

“Welp, there goes fun time! Gosh darn it! We were about to clear the desk and-“

“House,” Wilson threatens. 

“-And praise the lord.” 

“I’m sorry about him. He’s an idiot.” The med students blink, swallowing the ball that caught in her throat. 

“So, what’s….up?” Wilson tried to play it off cool, make the situation a little less awkward for the poor med student whose only fault was being assigned to help Wilson out for the day. 

“Oh...uh…” Cheeks burning red, she hands over a blue file. “Y-You’re next patient, Mister Fledking is waiting for you.” 

“Tell him I’ll be out to get him in a few minutes.” 

“Yeah, tell him my husband can see him after we’re done-“ Wilson waves awkwardly as the student walks away, possibly traumatized before quickly shutting the door. 

“You’re insufferable!” Wilson’s face was red with flaming embarrassment and frustration.

“What? She was gonna think that anyways! Have you seen those medical shows kids watch? It’s practically ingrained in their mind that two people behind a closed door are having sex.” House scoffs. “People eat that up. Not my fault.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you get to announce that we’re having sex in my office to colleagues! Let alone my shadow!” 

“But we didn’t have sex.”

“She doesn’t know that! Poor girl is probably traumatized now she thinks she walked in on some old men getting it on!” Wilson dreaded having to face that girl again. What would he say? Nothing could take this back. He was stuck now in this awkward situation.

“Fine, take your clothes off and fuck me. At least then it wasn’t a complete lie.”

Wilson swings the door open, pointing for him to get out. Judging by the redness in his face and burning expression, he may have gone a tad too far. Yet, he picks up his cane, limping out. Though before this, he notes the standing med student near printer, picking up a few things, so he makes one last stand. He spins around, looking at Wilson.

“Same time next week?” 

_Slam!_

“I’ll take that as a no.” House mutters to himself, turning around. “He always gets like this after. Hopefully it doesn’t last too long for the sake of his patients,” He comments to the Med Student. Then, he’s off with a sly smirk on his face. 

_Totally worth it._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


House was walking his way over to the conference room to possibly catch his team cheering about their accomplished case. However that proves to be the opposite when he makes it to the room only to find a familiar blond Australian girl sitting by his desk. Dressed in a patient gown, that did nothing to cover the obvious growing pregnancy bump. He notes the obvious hospital bracelet. Yet what catches him most impressed is the handcuff freely dangling from her hand.

House considered just limping away and hoped she’ll leave. Yet, the doctor found himself pushing the door open. 

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong place. The drug store is down the street.”

The girl turns, now giving him a better lighted view of her face. Pale skin, bagged eyes, green eyes.

“They’re trying time to kill me,” Charlotte states, her expression morphed with fear. Rocking in her seat, back and forth, back and forth.

“Oh goodie,” House sighs, moving towards his chair and flopping down. The girl was reeling in crazy. 

“They said they were gonna send me away but I won’t let them.” Shaking head. 

“As you do when somebody breaks the law, but what the hell do I know?” 

“Bad people are everywhere. They’re gonna kill me and my baby.” Charlotte’s eyes meet him for a brief moment. The pure raw fear in her face was unsettling. She looked dead serious. House almost believed her. 

“The only thing that’s gonna kill your baby is you.” 

No response. 

House sighs. Of course logic wasn’t part of this fantasy. Probably just another lie. Addicts do that a lot. That thought passed him right as he reached for a Vicodin. This catches the girls attention. She stares at the little white pill with envy. A drug addicts envy. 

“Leg pain,” He states. 

“Do you have anymore?” She asks, throat dry. 

House had to admit, the girl looked anything but better. He knew the drug withdrawal symptoms all too well. He knew how much of a bitch they could be. So maybe she got some pity points. However not nearly enough to openly give drugs to a pregnant teen. 

“Sorry, fresh out.” 

Charlotte’s head falls, eyes training back down to her bare feet. She continued to rock, nails digging into his chair. Not like he ever used the old thing. 

“You should go back to your bed. Unless you want an orderly to find you and drag you back.” 

“No! They can’t send me anywhere!” 

“Well you aren’t helping your case by rambling to me about imaginary bad guys in the shadows trying to kill you.” 

“They aren’t imaginary! I’m not crazy!” Charlotte’s voice rises, hands shaking. “I just need...a hit. I can’t think-“ 

“It’s called a withdrawal for a reason. It’s not supposed to make you feel better.” 

“Please, I just need a hit! Heroin-“

“Sure? Want some Xanax to go with that order? Or maybe Cocaine if you’re feeling antsy?” 

“Really?”

“No.” Charlotte curls her fingers, wrapping them around her body. House was about to reach for the phone, probably call somebody to get this lady out his office but is stopped when the addict speaks up.

“You’re like me.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You take it to think. I don’t even get high anymore. It just makes the world easier.” Eyes land on the empty Vicodin bottle in the trash. The bottle in his jacket suddenly seemed noticeable. “You’ve seen things. Stuff you’d rather forget. Drugs make it easier.”

“Wow that IQ of yours suddenly went from a 1 to a 5 didn’t it?” House sarcasm didn’t phase the girl. She just seemed focused on whatever theory she got stuck in her head while playing detective. 

“So how can you judge me and act like you’re different, a saint?”

“Because what I have in self understanding, you lack. I know what I am, and I don’t try to excuse it away.” House’s words ring through the room, shaking the younger patient. 

“I don’t want to die.”

“You’re paranoid. Nobody is out to get you.” Charlotte scoffs, looking away. Nails digging into flesh. Teeth sinking into lips. Heat flushing skin. 

“You aren’t like the others. I want you to be my doctor.” 

“Uh, no. I don’t treat people like that-“

“Then I refused treatment! Only you!” Charlotte was serious, her voice firmer than a pile of bricks on a windy day.

  
“What are you? Twelve?”

”Eighteen.”

”Oh in that case, I’m twenty one.” House comments. “And since we’re playing lying to the other person in room, I’m also a hiker.”   
  


“If you won’t help me then I’ll just leave.”   
  


House let a moment of silence pass over the two. It was a test. Help this lady, or she’ll go back into the world to just kill herself and her baby. Yet, House didn’t like to be played. He hated not having control of the situation. The girl showed no signs of budging. Her determined brow and piercing green eyes told him that she was serious.   
  


“Fine!” House exclaims in frustration. “But if I help you, you have to get yourself into rehab. Stay off the drugs and booze.” 

“Okay.” Charlotte’s voice was shaky, completely untrustworthy to any sane man who heard it. Crazy they’d call it. 

“ _Great.._.” 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Anybody missing a patient?” 

Cuddy’s face is full of shock and relief as she watches the scene unravel before her eyes. Moments before he was caught in a rogue patient alert with officials threatening to sue their department for losing a criminal about to close down the hospital. However, just in luck of time, out comes hobbling House, beside him, the missing female patient. Police are quick to try to grab her, but House stops them.

“We were just having a stroll. No need to panic.” Nurses walk over, leading the girl back towards her room.

“You took a criminal out from their medical room just to go for a walk?” Suspicion rising high. The lie clearly failed. 

“She’s my patient! I’m trying to improve my people skills, just like you oh so kindly suggested!” 

“No Doctor Lefoy is the Doctor in charge-“

“Clearly somebody is a little late to the party,” House says, ignoring the men in black that chose to stand far too close to him. “I’m taking this case.” 

“But there is no case! She’s just detoxing!” Cuddy exclaims. Where was this case suddenly coming from and why is her main doctor suddenly acting shadier than usual. 

“Ah, but she will need doctor visits to make sure that little bundle of joy of hers gets the best treatment.” House plays it innocently, trying to fool the cops. He knew his boss wouldn’t fall for it though. Her tits were smaller compared to her brain when it came to House.

“First order of business as Doctor, she’s to be admitted to our psychiatric center after detoxing.” Cuddy flared at him. “As much as I love seeing the good in people, it’s the best way to keep her and the baby healthy and clean. All while keeping her in one place where she’ll be looked after, unlike some dingy prison cell in Texas.” 

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with-“

“What exactly is that?” House taunts, flicking the sad little badge laying on the man’s chest. 

“It’s confidential business.”

“Ooooh, FBI?” House guesses. Judging by their non reactive face, he was right. So plot thickens. _Juicy._

“ _House_ ,” Cuddy cuts through the cops complaining voice. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Nope!” With that, House wobbles away, briefly passing his patient's room, where their eyes briefly meet before moving on. 

Cuddy just watches the back of House head grow farther away, shaking her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn’t be a fanfic without medical inaccuracies, am I right? 
> 
> Lol I’m having way too fun writing this. I’m considering my practice fic cause it’s the only thing on my mind. Also the amount of google searches are amazing. My FBI agent must be quaking. 
> 
> Eleven people like this fic enough to kudo it and all I can say is thanks for that. Made me feel better about writing this. 
> 
> Also while writing this, I heard Hugh’s voice for the first time. I was shook. For a moment I thought I was watching a different person. Like I legit thought somebody dubbed it. Man the talent in these actors is beyond me.


	3. Right Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS:
> 
> Mentioned substance abuse, rehab, and paranoia.

“Surgery was a success. Patient is making a steady recovery.” 

The news was happily shared between the small team of two. They congratulated each other on their own part. At one point, pouring a drink of an non alcoholic apple juice beverage.

“You think House ever celebrates with Wilson over a case like this? Glass of champagne or wine?”

“Have you met House? Man doesn’t celebrate anything. He just sees these cases as puzzles to be finished. Once it’s done, he just moves onto the next.” 

“Wilson wouldn’t marry somebody so cold that he didn’t see some human in.” 

“Or that’s what you like to think. Admit it, you like House.”

“Not in that way,” Cameron scoffs. “I just like working for him. A day is never boring with him.” 

“So far, this one is. House hasn’t come to give us a new case.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Cameron asks, glancing at the man curiously. 

“No. That means we’re stuck with boring rounds all day.” 

“ _ Touché _ .” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Foreman did it.” 

Cuddy didn’t need to look up to know why she was at her door. Judging by the heavy footsteps and annoying voice, she knew exactly who was at her door.

“Must you piss off everyone who knows you?” Cuddy asks.

“Yes. I’m pretty all of you would think I’m dying if it didn’t.” 

“You gonna tell me why this sudden interest in this random patient?” Cuddy inquires, barely glancing up from the paperwork sat underneath her hand as she signed away. Sure she was curious but she wasn’t gonna put her work on the back burner again.

“ _ Nothing _ .”

“You’re lying. The House I know wouldn’t take a case without some crazy complex theory.” 

“No complex theory. Girl wanted me to take her case, so I did.” 

“The girl doesn’t have a case. She’s a homeless addict. The only care she needs is a rehab and prenatal care. Something you’d be caught dead doing.” Cuddy wanted to know what was going on in her hospital. She didn’t like things going under the radar without her direct approval. She was running a hospital for pete sake not the LA PD. 

“What can I say, I was feeling nice.” House shrugs off the concern, looking straight at his boss, mustering the best  _ ‘I’m innocent’  _ face he could.

“If I didn’t know better, you like this patient. Or possibly even feel bad.” 

“To feel bad for someone would require me to have empathy.” 

“You may not see it, but you’re more human than you think,” Cuddy reminds him. 

House pretends to gag, turning his body and pretending to vomit all around the office. Cuddy just sighs, rolling her eyes. Of course, he would be difficult. 

“Deny it all you want. You’re just a big softie on the inside.” 

“Not as big as your ass.” 

“Don’t shift the subject.” House holds his hands out, pretending to look guilty. However Cuddy could see through the layers of snarky comments, sass, and narcissism. Behind all that was a man who actually did care for other people, more importantly his friends and family. He just didn’t show it. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did I ruin your heartfelt moment? Hurt your  _ fwelings _ ?” House taunts, grabbing the tissue box. “Need a tissue?”

“I can fire you, you know.” 

“Oh look at me, I’m so scared!” House stands, bored of the conversation already. He had better things to do. Like not being in Cuddy’s office.

“You’re avoiding the situation because you know I’m right!” 

“If it helps you sleep at night, be my guest.” The door to the office closes and Cuddy is left alone. She watches the man walk off, shaking her head. He was a tough cookie to crack. She had no idea how Wilson put up with him for so many years. 

All she could hope was House knew what he was doing.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Thirty year old woman, sudden development of seizures-“

“Pass.”

“Okay...um…Man faints during daughters rehearsal-“

“Boring.” 

“But I didn’t finish-“ Cameron is cut off by House’s abrupt turn to face her. 

“Let me guess, a bunch of sick people. You want me to take the case because you feel bad.” Cameron takes a step back, looking up at the older man baffled.

“I thought these cases would interest you-“

“Exactly, you  _ thought _ .” House empathizes. He grabs the files from her hand, barely paying them attention. “Any half brain doctor can piece this together.”

“These people need help! You can’t say no!”

“I can, and I did.” House begins to walk away. He didn’t get too far before Cameron’s voice calls out, “You can’t just abandon these people!” 

House ignores the calls, heading straight to his office. Dropping the files on his desk, he lets them scatter. He drops himself into his chair when he feels a familiar ache return. His leg. His hand instinctively rubs on his leg, trying to ease the onset pain while another reaches into his bottle, grabbing his medicine. The pill goes down with ease but the ache remains. Forever there. 

House’s eyes travel onto the dozens of files. Eyes scanning the file numbers and patient names. Before he could stop himself, he began to look them over. A brief read of the cases he deemed boring. 

Before he knew it, he had a pen in his hand, writing notes for each case. Little things other doctors might have missed. Before he knew it, he read through them all, each with personal notes. Dropping the pen, he places it on his mail pen. 

_ Beep, Beep! _

House reaches for his pager, ripping it out from his belt.  **_‘Floor 4, room 12. Code White.’_ **

“Interesting.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“No! I won’t let you hurt me!” A voice shrieks.

House barely steps out of the elevator and already knows who the supposed  _ Code White _ was. 

“Mam, you need to calm down! This is a hospital! We only want to help-“

“No! You’re here to take me back!” 

House glances at the clock, noting the time of 3pm. Normally he would be on his way to embarrass his husband and steal his food, but instead he finds himself limping towards the hostile voice screaming bloody murder. 

“I want House!” 

A triage of nurses are standing outside a patients room, hands held up high in peace. Their expression concerned as they stared at the face of the patient. One notices him, sighing in relief. 

“That time of the month?” 

The nurse doesn’t laugh, instead stepping aside, clearing a way for the crippled doctor. In poor unfortunate moment of bad timing, a flying pillow smacks him across the face along with a ripped out IV fluid bag. 

“Wow, ever considered joining a baseball team?” House notes, recentering himself. 

Held up in the corner of the room, holding the iv stand defensively for protection, Charlotte’s tense body seemed to lighten at the sight of a familiar voice. Yet it isn’t enough to fully calm her down.

“You said you’d help!” Charlotte exclaims. “Those people were trying to grab me!” 

“I said I’d take your case. Those people are just trying to run tests so I can help you.” 

“No, they were gonna kill me!” 

“Not everything is gonna kill you, except for maybe your own stupidity.” House steps closer, eyeing the girl cautiously. “Now will you be a good girl and put the line down? I’d hate to have a girl die under my watch because she accidentally impaled herself with an IV line. 

There’s a moment of thought in the girls process. Her teeth grit, eyes shift between nurses and House, fingers grip the pole like it was her only life line. Then her shoulders drop and the line falls, crashing onto the ground. 

“Now that’s over, these nurses-“

“No! You do it!”

“I’m a Doctor, I’ve got bigger fish to catch other than your ultrasound. That’s why we have other people in the hospital to do these things-“ 

“Nobody runs the tests except you! That’s our deal!” Charlotte tells him, her tone demanding. She wasn’t budging.

“Hold on, the deal was I’d take your case and you’d stop being an idiot. I never said-“

Charlotte reaches for the line again, testing the doctors limits. “No!” House exclaims, stopping the woman. “There’s no need for that…”

House clenched his teeth, feeling his blood start to rise. A sardonic laughter escapes his exasperated body. This girl was good. She had him deadlocked. Leave, girl would end up in a cell with filth conditions and then end back where she was found. In the crack den. House had no leverage. 

“Everyone leave the room. I will be the only person allowed in this room,” House orders despite his head screaming at him. 

Nurses glance at each other, even the sonographer on site looked unsure. Though they bite the bait, everyone leaves. 

“You’re gonna be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?” House watches the patient head back to the cot, clearly glad she won. Not that the other man had a choice. 

“Not if you keep your promises.” 

“Well that certainly makes me look forward to our future together.” House walked towards the sonogram equipment noting it only made it a few inches through the door before all chaos hit. So he had the honor of finishing the job. 

Soon he was asking his new patient to roll up her shirt. While he sat beside the bed, he prepared the wand and gel. 

Charlotte does as she instructed, laying down. Rolling up the scrubs revealing her baby bump. For the time, she was skinnier than one would want to be when having a child. Though he highly doubted she had a fridge full of food in whatever box she lived in. 

Without warning, he squirts the gel straight onto Charlotte’s bare skin. He doesn’t miss her shivering, back curling up. Yeah, normally a doctor was supposed to warn the patient of the cold gel but that would just be a waste of air.

House presses down on the skin, slowly inching the wand around. The room was dead silent for a few seconds before finally, a sign. A little underneath the belly button, House kept the prod steady, looking at the figure of a child on the screen.

“Well good news, kid isn’t dead yet.” House nods.

A sigh of relief. Charlotte moves her head to look. The image of the unborn child is enough to grow a smile on her lips. Though the longer she stares, the eyes grow sadder. More dark.

“I can tell you the gender.” 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I couldn’t.” House watched as the young girl before him mentally argued with herself. She seemed far gone for a few moments, thinking of who knows what. Whatever it was, when she came back, it was like she was a whole different person. 

“Sure.”

“You’re having a boy wombat.” House says. 

“Wow...a boy…” Charlotte looks off in the distance, deep in thought, processing everything she just heard.

“Don’t get too excited, when he comes out he’ll become nothing but a little mini demon for eighteen years.” 

“I can’t….I won’t…” Charlotte shakes her head. “The streets aren’t the place for a baby. It isn’t safe out there.” 

“You sound like every mom with a bob cut and beach blond hair,” House tells her. He takes a moment to save the photo, capturing the growing fetus, mid floating in the womb and printing it. 

“I’m scared.” 

“Should be. Kids are nothing but parasites that feed off you and grow. They stick with you until they’re fully grown, and depending whether you sucked at your job or not they might come back for Christmas dinner.” House picks up the fully printed ultrasound, handing it over to the young mother. 

“Any more questions?”

“Yeah...uh Morning sickness...how long is it supposed to last?”

“It’s probably not morning sickness causing your nasua. Detoxing is probably why you’re feeling it.” 

Charlotte nods, taking the information in. She would take that answer as the simplest and most probable explanation. 

“Welp, my job is done here-“

“How much longer?” The antsy teen wanted to know. She felt like she had been in a car wreck. Her never ending headache, itchy veins, train of never stopping thoughts. She just wanted it to be over.

“Until your blood and urine is fully clean and it’s deemed safe for you and your baby. After that, you’ll be transferred to our rehab clinic. There you’ll have a room and they’ll help you find work.” 

“Why are you doing all this? Why even help me?” Charlotte asks, curiosity and self pity leaking through her words. She looked so frail and hopeless in the moment. Like his answer meant a lot.

“I made a deal,” House shrugs as if it was obvious, “Plus, I get paid for this.” 

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


There was no escaping it.

  
  


Wilson was bound to find out. Whether it would be from Cuddy’s big mouth or staff’s nonstop gossip. Either way, the oncologist would find out exactly what he was doing. 

When he finally got home, he was greeted by very interested Wilson on the couch. His face practically lit up when he saw him. It was disgustingly adorable. Though House tried to ignore it, for he knew where it would lead. 

“So, any new cases?” Wilson asks, opening the door for House to talk. Share his story without being pried open. Though the older man was smart and caught on the moment he stepped inside.

“You suck at pretending.” House states, limping away to try and escape whatever his husband was gonna say. 

“And you suck at answering questions.” Footsteps follow him into the bedroom. Soon he’s cornered in their room with a very intrigued looking Wilson. He tried to ignore his presence, pulling out a random T-shirt from their bin to change into.

“Let me guess, Cuddy opened her big fat mouth?” House avoids, throwing the accusation with precision. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Actually, I knew something was up when you didn’t show up for lunch and try to steal my food. Though a few nurses chatting behind me did help a lot.” Wilson tried to appear guilty but the facade didn’t work. He wasn’t guilty. For he wouldn’t be just standing there, prying him for answers, if he was. 

“Nurse’s gossip, my enemy.” 

“Come on, please,” Wilson begs. “I want to know everything.” 

“What are you? A sixteen year old girl?” House shrugs off his work dress shirt, sliding into a black t-shirt for comfort. “Oh, I know, we can sit down and braid each other's hair while we’re at it!”

“I don’t see what’s the big deal, I tell you about all my patients.”

“Any time you’ve told me, I never asked. You just love talking about your patients because you want other people to agree with you and know what you go through everyday.”

“Well, you’ve never said anything before?“ Wilson’s shoulders tighten. His teeth clenching. How come House wouldn’t have brought this up before? 

“That’s because I’m married to you, if I told you to shut up you’d hate me.” 

“Fine! I’m sorry for talking to you about work and asking about your case. I won’t annoy you anymore!” 

House feels guilt knock into him when he looks at his husband’s face. He was hurt. He cursed himself and his big mouth. 

“ _Wilson_ …”

Wilson walks away, mic dropped. He was presumably going to sulk in the kitchen. 

House signs, realizing he messed up. He could be harsh at times and this just happened to be one of those times.

Throwing the pair of casual pants the limp Doctor was about to change into he grabbed his cane. Despite his limp, he does his best to follow. He does it fast. He makes it down the hall, eyeing his husband who sat on the couch, staring at the ground. 

The deadly silence draws on forever seemingly. His heart began to pick up the pace as his nerves bounced around. It was unfathomable. Like dozens of knives slowly pressed into his bad leg, torturing him. 

Another breath leaves his body. His shoulders drop like weights, his eyes drifting around the room, mustering up strength from within.

“The patient is a homeless addict. She’s five months pregnant and refuses to have any other doctor near her.” 

Wilson looks up, intrigued. 

“You do like the crazy ones,” Wilson states aloud with no reason at all. Just a thought he voiced aloud. Though it didn’t make it any less true. 

“She’s also under custody of the FBI.”

“Geez, who is this woman?” 

“No clue. People lie. She’s no exception.” House shrugs. 

“House, it sounds like this lady is gonna need a lot more help than just a few check ups. Are you sure you can handle that?” Wilson asks. For the sake of everyone involved, he’d had for them have to deal with the rough side of House who hates humanity. He’s seen that side of him a few times and each time wasn’t pretty for the poor being caught in the middle. 

“I’m perfectly capable of doing whatever other dumb witted doctors can do. It’s not that hard.” 

“I know, but what if you lose your temper with this woman? What are you gonna do? Insult her and threaten her with your cane?” 

“That was one time! And I didn’t threaten her! I offered to put their kneecap back in place with my cane.” 

“The poor elderly lady had a broken leg! She was in pain!” 

“She already had one foot in a grave? What’s a little broken leg gonna do?”

“You’re proving my point right now.” Wilson points out, gesturing to the taller man. His grip on his cane tightened immensely from when he stood there.

“I’m not trying to discourage you or telling you what to do, but this case sounds sensitive. A drug addict pregnancy isn’t gonna be an easy thing. Especially if the patient is uncooperative.”

“So I shouldn’t take her case because you think I’m suddenly gonna grow feelings and actually care for my patient?”

“You already have. You wouldn’t have taken the case if you didn’t.” 

“You’re such a girl.” 

“Ow, my feelings. They’re so hurt,” Wilson draws out sarcastically. Of course, he didn’t care what insult was thrown his way. Especially because it was his husband throwing it his way. 

“Are you done trying to expose my feelings so I can do something actually worth my time?” 

“I’m right and you know it.”

“No, you’re delusional.” With that, House leaves down the hall. Leaving Wilson on the couch with a victory smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up late to alter this chapter. We’re up to 15 of you liking this story which is a big win in my books. Hell who knows, maybe in the future I can write more House MD fanfic. It’s really fun and good way to spend quarantine. 
> 
> Anyways, plot is starting to move here. We getting somewhere which is good. I have a good sense of where I’m taking this fic and got plot laid out. Hopefully it ain’t too much trash. I’ve been on top of myself, writing when I could. Just cause I want this story to be well told. Though my grammar can be a little wack at times. Spelling and grammar is mostly who I’m not out here writing fics 24/7. Also writing is hard lol. Like starting is hard but after that is kinda easier.
> 
> Well that’s all I have to say for this chapter. Thanks to the people reading and giving kudos. It means a lot to me that there are people actually reading this. I kinda expected this to flop but for an old fandom, not that bad. Anyways thanks again and have a wonderful day!


	4. Be Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History never leaves you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS:
> 
> Mentions of Abusive relationships, underage...everything, addiction, toxic relationships, running away from home and basically everyone, and etc.
> 
> IF SENSITIVE, DO NOT PURSUE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

“ _It might be alopecia areata._ ”

“Doesn’t explain the blisters.” Once again the team sits in their conference room, eyes on the bored in front of them. 

“Could’ve got his head or something.”

“Maybe if you guys opened your eyes, you’d see what I see.” House drops down the file, purposely showing a photo of their patient.

Cameron and Foreman glance at the photo. They could see their patients' heads, patches of bald spots practically infesting the body. Accompanied with nasty blisters and red marks. 

“Anybody wanna tell me what shape the red marks make?” 

“A circle.” Foreman sits back in realization. “Ringworm.” 

“Finally! A doctor with a brain!” 

“But that doesn’t explain the seizures!” Cameron rebuts, unsure of the initial diagnosis. The last thing they needed was to get the case wrong.

“Ah, foiled again!” Cameron sits, still unconvinced. “He’s probably had the worm for a while and spread to the brain. Hence the seizures.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with House on this one.” Foreman glances over to Cameron. 

“That’s a stretch.”

“Fine. What’s your idea?” House looks straight into his team member's eyes, staring straight through him. 

Cameron stays silent after finding nothing to counteract the diagnosis. Once again, she was caught with her pants down and dry mouthed. 

“Oh that’s right, you don’t have an idea!” House says. “At least not one that could explain everything!”

“I’ll start the patient on treatment.” Foreman stands, trying to diverge the situation. 

“While you’re there, might as well tell them little Sparky is gonna need to spend the rest of the week out of the dog park and in a cream bath.” 

Foreman ignores the man, leaving the room to deliver the better news. Now left alone, Cameron turns to the older man, taking off her reading glasses.

“I saw the notes you left on the cases.” 

“Notes? Must be ghosts.” House stands, wiping the whiteboard off, finally closing the case.

“You’re the only person I know who writes like a child trying to learn cursive.” Cameron wasn’t about to let this topic slide that easy without getting some final words. “Foreman has neat writing while mine is cursive with a bit of an extra loop.”

“Interesting observation Sherlock, did you get a degree in handwriting analysis?”

“Why can’t you ever just be nice and not hide it?” Cameron asks. 

“Because that would be lying.” House turns, taking one last look at his collegue. “Now are you done or are you gonna keep talking while Foreman actually does his job?” 

“Fine. All I’m saying, being nice isn’t that bad.” 

House gags, pretending to vomit at the thought. Just another way to make himself more of an asshole than he already is.

Cameron leaves, rolling her eyes, yet with a fond smile on her face.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“If you don’t try to kill them, then I’m sure you’ll survive.” House stood at the end of his patients bed, hands pocketed. Across from him, Charlotte sat at the end of the bed, dressed in hospital donation clothes. A gray shirt and maroon hoodie that was missing it’s hoodie strings. Bags decorated her under eye, shoulders tended. Her fingernails dig into her palm as moments past.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“Then you’ll probably end up in a cell with FBI men watching you.” House shrugs nonchalantly. “This is your best option.”

“It hurts so bad...I can’t think...I can’t sleep-“

“And your head is spinning,” House finishes. “You’ll get over it...eventually.” 

“Thank you…”

“Don't do that. I already have enough emotionally driven people in my life.”

“Has anybody told you that you’re a bastard?” Charlotte questions. Her brow tilting up, eyes staring through him. Clearly she was starting to realize just the type of man House was.

“A few. They prefer the term asshole though. Narcissistic, cold hearted, sociopathic—see where I’m going with this?”

“But you’re married?” Ring placed on House’s finger caught the eye of the young girl. 

“Nice observation skills,” House approves, holding up his hand for all to look at, “for a six year old but it's better than nothing I guess.” 

“They have to be deaf. Nobody living could keep up with that mouth.” 

“Somebody is feeling awfully snarky to the one person who you trust.” 

“You’re the only person who’s selfish enough not to listen to anybody who tries to bribe you,” Charlotte mutters, rubbing her temples. Another headache. 

“You keep talking like somebody’s trying to kill you. Either it’s the drugs or it’s true.” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“Well, our ride has yet to come and I’m bored. So please entertain me.” 

“I wasn’t always like this,” Charlotte starts. “ I met somebody a long time ago. He was charming, rich, and handsome, a full fledged ticket to a life in luxury.” The young girl swallows, eyes ripping away from House and drifting to the window. “I was naive and let him take over my life.” 

“So your sugar daddy turned sinister when he asked for a little extra favor?” The joke was insensitive and misplaced. Any normal person would’ve blown a casket or called the older man a disgusting piece of trash. However Charlotte snorts. 

“That isn’t even close to the real story.” A moment of heavy silence pauses. The nails digging in her palm began to draw blood. “Turns out he was an abusive asshole. He kept me on a short leash, made my family turn on me. He told them I was just a crazy drug addict.” 

“Why didn’t you just leave?”

“He told me that if I ever left him, he’d kill me. That I was his and nobody would believe me.” 

House felt guilt began to climb up his chest. He didn’t believe her. Though to be fair, he didn’t know details other than some random patient claiming everyone was trying to kill them.

“I was sixteen when I got married to him. He promised my family I’d live a life of luxury and that he’d always be there for me.” 

“That’s illegal. You’re a minor.”

“Not back home. My parents signed the papers. I was officially his.” Pain leaks through her voice, cracking. “What nobody knew was that hubby had a way of talking his way into your head. He could make you take out a life insurance policy on yourself with him as your beneficiary.” 

“Sounds like a classic case of a Sociopath with too much money.” 

“He was. Everything was about him. He thought nobody could touch him.” Charlotte exhales, a small condescending laugh escaping. “And he was right. Nobody can stop him.”

House didn’t say a thing. He stayed deathly quiet as this girl let out her pain, dropping this story on his head.

“He wanted a kid. I didn’t. I was taking birth control behind his back. I couldn’t bring a kid that was half his into the world. To have to look into their face and see him and what he did to me.” A hand touches her extended stomach. “But he found out and switched my meds with fertility pills.” 

Charlotte stares at the open window in front of her, watching the still building across from her. It was the only thing she could look at without completely losing it.

“When I found out I was pregnant they told me it was too late for an abortion. So I ran. I left my home and came here. Drugs and booze were the only thing keeping me sane. Kept me from thinking about…” Charlotte grips her pants, inhaling deeply. Her head shakes as she struggles to keep going. It was far too painful. “I wasn’t at the party to get drugs that night. I was looking for protection from one of the men at the party. I didn’t know it was gonna be raided by FBI. I swear.”

House doesn’t know how to respond to that other than in a sarcastic rebuttal. Though the words don’t leave his mouth. Not the time.

“They want me to testify but I won’t! If my husband finds out I’m here, he’ll just send some of his men here to here to drag me back-“

“They aren’t gonna find you.” House knew this might come back to bite him in the ass however in the moment it didn’t seem to matter. “You didn’t buy drugs that night or smoke. You were just at the wrong spot. They can’t disprove you in court. Their case crumbles.” 

_ Knock, knock _ . 

The door to the patient room slides open. A old friendly lady with dyed back maroon hair and clothes that would make the 60’s hang their head in shame. She wore a nice smile, one that could only be described at the grandma grin.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I’m here to pick up Ms. Brown.” 

Charlotte glances over the elder, her judging look not fading until she deems her safe enough. She gives her small greeting, placing a nice grin hoping she hadn’t looked too horrible.

“Oh, just look at you! You’re glowing!” 

“Should’ve seen her in handcuffs and heroin in her system,” House comments. 

“You must be Doctor House!” The elder turns, facing House, a warm hand greeting him. “I’m Elenor. I’m gonna be taking her to our residential-“

“I know. I’m the one who called you.” House ignores the hand, keeping his tucked safely in his pockets with no intention of participating. 

Elenor seems to get the memo, pulling back her hand in an awkward moment. She exclaims a puff of air, trying to cut through the tension.

“Well, if the discharge is in order, I will gladly take Ms. Brown to our center.” 

House nods in approval, stepping back. All he could do in the moment was nothing. He just watched as the elder lady helped Charlotte get set, picking up her hospital bag. She offers to help the pregnant woman stand but Charlotte refuses. Still wary of people even if they looked like a grandma.

They were about set to leave, one foot out the door, when Charlotte pauses. She turns, facing House. Eye to eye. 

“Thank you...for helping me.”

“Thank me later with a bag of yummy heroin.” Elenor’s disapproving look hit him faster than a freight train. Too far for granny’s taste. 

Charlotte stays silent, eyes drifting into the thought. He could see her concern and worrisome thoughts pass by her. Hesitation to trust somebody.

“Not everyone is out to get you. Believe or not, there are some good people out there,” House tells her, trying to give some reassurance. 

Charlotte doesn’t reply. She looks up at the older man, staring deep into his eyes. Moments pass till she finally pulls away, walking away. Elenor welcomes her with open arms, walking away. He watches them disappear from the room window. Once gone, his stare lingers before dropping to his cane. His pockets suddenly felt heavier holding the bottle of Vicodin. His hand drifted mindlessly, slipping into his pocket to grasp the bottle with his needy fingers.

House’s body stops, fingers freezing. His eyes drift from his cane to the window of the patient's room where he watched them disappear. One thought passed through his head.

_ It hurt _ . 

His stare stays for a bit longer as he remembers the sight of Charlotte walking away. The back of her blond hair growing farther away. His hand recoils, like a snake. His hand dropping down, numb. He straightens up, head held up. 

The room is quiet, lights shutting off. Left alone after a long time of use. Nothing but the light from the window bleeding in kept the room slightly alive as footsteps left.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“ _ Patrick the wombat, who makes his home at Ballarat Wildlife Park in southeastern Australia, turned 29 last year, making him the oldest known wombat… _ ”

House sat alone. 

In the living room with the tv on, his eyes stare at the mindless screen. Though his head off somewhere else. Drifting thoughts from the screen.

The door to the apartment opens. 

Wilson walks in, drafting his jacket on the rack. He makes an effort of picking up House’s jacket which lay on the floor to be forgotten until Monday. He drops the mail and keys before turning over to the couch where his husband sat.

Wilson leans over the couch, glancing at the tv then his husband.

“I thought wombats weren’t real.” 

“What?” House turns, looking up at his husband, drawn out of his deep train of thought by the outrageous sentence. 

“I thought wombats lived on Tatooine with all the other made up animals.”

“Those are Womp rats! Wombats are very much real. Unless I missed a meteor hitting Australia.” The situation was kinda funny however it was always weird. 

“Fascinating,” Wilson states with a sarcastic tongue. It wasn’t like this information was gonna benefit him in any shape or form. 

“What’s that smell?” Wilson’s head suddenly goes up as he gets a whiff of something strong. It was intoxicating. In a good way. Which is why the oncologist felt even more nervous to find out what it was.

“Beef Wellington,” House states, barely looking up from the tv. 

“You made dinner?” Wilson asks. He knew his husband had a skill in the kitchen but him actually using that skill was a rare sight. “Is there an anniversary that I’m missing?” 

“No,” House mutters. “I was just tired of eating half cooked meatballs.” 

“Well, I think that’s very sweet of you. Thank you,” Wilson tells House. As a gift for his hard work, a peck on the cheek. 

House grumbles, slightly embarrassed by the outspoken affection. He couldn’t control the red growing on his cheeks. 

“I’m gonna get changed so then we can enjoy dinner together.” 

With that Wilson leaves down the hall leaving his husband alone once again. 

A hand escapes his pocket, revealing the little orange bottle that contained everything. His Vicodin. He stares at it while his ears focused on the background noise of Wilson’s footsteps traveling through their apartment. 

The pills rattle, taunting the man. Telling him that they needed him. Everything to try and pull him in. 

“ _ Make sure to get the glasses out! I think we still have some wine in the pantry somewhere! _ ” Wilson’s voice calls out. 

House’s gaze is ripped away from the bottle. He places them down on the table, leaving them to sit there as he stands up to do as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is short but tells an important piece of plot with Charlotte’s not so good upbringing and life. Just giving you perspective from her angle instead of just House’s. However after writing that, I was so downtrodden that I Lidget wrote that ending paragraph to make myself feel better. Though it’s also based off a true story. I had typed Wombat as Womp rat during first drafts of this story. So the whole time I thought House was calling Chase a Star Wars alien lmao. Finding out Wombats were real changed my life. I spent a good hour researching them. 
> 
> Anyways that’s this chapter. Isn’t my best work so far and with so much more to come in the future. I bid you all a good day (or night depending where you at) and see yah later. 
> 
> (Ps, thanks for the 18 kudos. Appreciate y’all reading this crack fest -pun not intended-)


	5. Work Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new cases leaves Cameron being forced to learn a lesson and Foreman sees something he probably shouldn’t have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is tame. Takes place from the POV of Cameron and Foreman trying to deal with everything.

“ _ Boo! _ ”

Cameron jumps, letting out a startled gasp. From around the corner, a masked figure jumps out. With fake teeth and beady red eyes. It was frightening.

The files in her hand slip only to be caught by the supposed werewolf’s hand. 

“House!” Cameron exclaims in realization and relief. 

On cue, the creature unmasks revealing her unrelenting boss as the perpetrator. He looks at the files, glancing over them with curiosity.

“Ten year old experiencing muscle spasms-“

“What is wrong with you? I-I could’ve hit you!” Cameron exclaims, clutching her poor beating chest. She did her best to breathe and calm down. 

“You wouldn’t have. I calculated the risk and found you were less likely to hit me because it isn’t in your nature,” House tells her, tossing the mask into his colleagues arms. With that he turns on his heels, reading through the file. 

“You think I can’t hit somebody?” Cameron asks, slightly offended.

“No, I know you can’t. You’d rather talk things out than fist it out.” House continues to keep walking, leaving behind the young doctor to watch him go. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“I mean, House isn’t wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Cameron scoffs, crossing her arms. “You think I can’t punch somebody?” Her accusatory glare burned through her collegue across the table.

“I didn’t say that.” Foreman sighs, lowering his file. “I just think House has a point. You let him walk all over you along with every doctor with common sense.”

“I do not!”

“Last week, when Davis decided to take a two hour lunch break when you were covering, you didn’t tell Cuddy or House. He took advantage of your kind nature.” 

Cameron bit her cheek, tapping her foot on the tiled ground with a furious pout. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She felt betrayed.

“You know what, fine! I’ll show both of you I can be just as mean as you guys!” Cameron declares, pushing herself up and stomping out of the room, flames at her heels.

“Cameron, wait!” The door to the break room slams and Foreman finds him alone with their current case. He sighs. So much for getting their notes together.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Where’s Cameron?” 

That was the first question to leave House’s mouth when he entered the conference room. The young doctor was seemingly missing from her chair. 

“She was upset that you told her she couldn’t fight.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t fight! I just said she couldn’t throw a hit to save her life.” 

“Something tells me she didn’t take that too well,” Foreman states with a sarcastic rebuttal. 

“I can’t have a Doctor that has no backbone.”

“Cameron is a great doctor. So what, she's a bit emotional?”

House rolls his eyes, exhaling loudly. Of course this would happen. Only to him it seemed like. People just don’t know how to handle the truth.

“Let’s not get our personal stuff mixed into with our work. How’s our patient?” House asks, clearing the air. If Cameron wanted to run off and pout then so be it. However he came to do his job. Not to play babysitter. 

“He claims to have seen ghosts.” 

“Better call the ghostbusters before the big spooky ghost takes you away,” House teases as he writes down hallucinations on the bored right under spasms. 

“Strange thing is that the kid knows it isn’t real but still says he sees it.”

“At least the kid hasn’t completely lost it.” 

“Mom claims the kid also has migraines. Which is what caused him to crash his bike down the hill once.” House gives an impressed nod, writing that down as a symptom. 

“Kid have seizures?”

“He has a history of them though his parents say he hasn’t had one since he was four.”

“When did the migraines start?”

“When the kid was eight. Parents thought it was just a side effect of his history with seizures.” 

“Well I don’t care what the parents think. They’re idiots with google search as their degree,” House tells him. The day he starts caring about parent’s medical opinions, he will have won a gold medal in the Olympic track.

“Parents know what’s best for their kid. They know more about them than some fancy doctors would,” Foreman notes.

“Sure maybe with what food they like to eat. Parents are biased. They see what they want to see in their kids while at the same time pushing their beliefs into them.” 

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.” Foreman points out, trudging lightly. 

“Yes, unsociable asshole boss with a history of drug abuse, must be daddy issue!” 

“I never said you had daddy issues. I just said you sound like you know about those issues,” Foreman contradicts. A mischievous look in his eyes said millions. House had walked right into that one.

“Well, we all know you were thinking it.” House turns around, uncapping his marker. “What else?”

Foreman resisted the urge to laugh. He had to be serious. He clears his throat of any giggles, glancing down at the file. 

“Kid had trouble grabbing my hand. He looked very out of it though.” 

“Lack of coordination. So the kid isn’t gonna be playing baseball anytime soon.” 

“Kid also got a rash around the body and fever as well as abdominal pain.” 

“Ultrasound the stomach and get the kid on antibiotics,” House orders. “Also run the kids blood. Find out if this is viral or bacterial we’re dealing with.” He drops his marker on the bored, staring at the list of symptoms. 

“On it.” 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


House limped towards the lonely table. 

Cameron sat, head in a book, with a tray of lunch in front of her. She doesn’t bother glancing up to look at her boss, instead focusing on the ink on her book.

“Are you really gonna just run away from your job when somebody says something remotely unfriendly?” House didn’t beat around the bush. He got straight to the problem at heart and stabbed it with a sharp stick.

Again, ignoring. 

Cameron just flips a page of her book, still focused on the words in front of her. She even looked surprised as she read further into the book, completely ignoring her boss again.

“The silent treatment? Really?” 

Another page flip.

House had enough, taking the book straight from her hands. Playing games were never fun when he wasn’t the one behind them. 

“I was reading that!”

“I took you more as Fifty Shades of Grey kind of Doctor-“ Cameron tried to grab the book but failed. House’s long arm beat her short body trying to reach. 

“Give it back!”

“Hit me.” 

“What?!” Cameron exclaims, astounded by her boss’s words. She struggled to comprehend what she even heard. 

“I’ll give you back the book if you hit me.” 

The young doctor looks around, embarrassed as eyes begin to pull over to the disruptive man and her book. Everyone was watching, staring. An audience to an annoying doctor and his colleague.

“Come on, hit me! It isn’t that hard! Just pull your fist back and throw it!” House taunts, flaunting around the book. 

Cameron’s eyes glared right into House’s eyes, her chest rising and falling dramatically. She honestly looked like she was gonna start to cry. Yet no signs of physical hostility in her body.

_ Sob _ .

Suddenly Cameron’s head fell into her hands, a cursed sob escaping her lips. She was crying. Her shoulders fell up and down as she bawled. House glances around, somewhat startled by such an extreme reaction. 

“Stop doing that.”

The sobs only got harsher after that. House was left standing over the girl, awkwardly unsure of what to do. Maybe he had taken this whole lesson a step too far. What was he supposed to do with a crying doctor in the middle of lunch hour?

“Fine, take your book back. Geez.” 

Almost immediately Cameron looks up, smiling gleefully as she took back her possessions. Fake girl wasn’t even crying. She wore a mischievous shit-eating grin.

“Thank you!” 

Part of House was glad the show wasn’t real. That would be a hard one to explain away to Cuddy. However another part of him was disappointed that he let himself get played. She used the one this House despises against him. His disdain for human emotions and interaction. 

“You little actor-“ 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just really like this book,” Cameron tells him, sounding as innocent as a saint. Yet House knew full well that under that halo was two devil red horns. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

Cameron just smiles victoriously, resuming her book read.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“Tests rule out bacteria. It’s a virus we’re dealing with.”

“Any ideas?” House looks between his team, doubtful that this would lead anywhere. 

“Could be Meningitis.”

“Doesn’t explain the liver.”

“What liver?” Foreman asks, brows knitting in confusion. House picks up a file, pulling out a photo. “The kid's ultrasound shows a swollen liver. Am I the only one who looked at this picture?!” 

“Could Dengue Fever,” Cameron adds, trying her best to look outside the box.

“No, that’s very unlikely. There’s only a very few cases in America.”

“Family does travel a lot.”

“But nowhere in the past nine months,” Foreman concludes. “It’s not Dengue Fever.”

“Has anybody checked the kid's throat?” 

“Of course. Nurses during admission.” Cameron looks over at her boss. That’s when she sees the familiar near epiphany expression on his face. When all tension fades as clarity hits. 

“Check it again. Check his lymph nodes.” 

“Why?”

“Call it a hunch.” Foreman and Cameron share a look, curiosity and uncertainty. Both leave to get to work leaving their boss alone in the conference room. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Why are you checking his throat?”

Foreman watched over the worried parents as Cameron put on gloves. He tried his best to keep them calm and ressuared. However it was hard to do that when you’ve got a sick kid with no idea why.

“We’re just making sure we check everything. We don’t miss a symptom and misdiagnose him.” 

“Alright Cole, I’m just gonna check around your throat if that’s okay?” 

The boy pauses, glancing over Cameron with hesitation before accepting. Too tired to put up a fight against it. Her gloved hand began to feel around, checking the throat. It didn’t take long to find the kid’s lymph nodes. They were swollen which made it much easier to find. The doctor tries to hide her surprise behind a smile. 

“Cole, has your throat been bothering you lately?”

“He said it hurt and the nurse said we could give him cough syrup. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just his lymph nodes are swollen.” Cameron didn’t miss Foreman’s sigh, dropping head. 

“Oh my god, you don’t think it’s-“

“No, it’s more likely this a symptom of the viral infection than cancer,” Foreman shuts down the mother's concern. 

“But there’s a chance?” The father asks, his tone dangerously low.

“Yes. There is a possibility.” Cameron doesn’t hide her disdain for that answer, glaring at his coworker. 

“ _ What was that? _ ” 

Foreman had barely made it a few steps out of the patients room before he had Cameron yelling at him. Her expression displeased with shaking frustration.

“I did my job.”

“No, you scared that family half to death! Now they’re even more worried!” Cameron says, head shaking with disapproval. 

“Truth of the matter is we don’t know what their kid has. We can’t rule anything out for sure. It’s better that they know what’s on the table than to be blindsided.” 

“By leaving them wondering if their kid is gonna live through the night?”

“I’m making sure they’re informed of the risks.”

“Tests said that this was a viral infection. Not Cancer.”

“Yeah, but the possibility of cancer isn’t completely off the table. It could develop later on and I’d rather not have angry parents on my back for not warning them.” 

Cameron stops in her struts, watching Foreman continue to walk. Her breaths heavy and fists clenched tight. She wanted to say more, defend her statement. Yet she couldn’t muster up the leg power to storm up to Foreman and tell him off. So instead, she was left behind. Watching another person walk away.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Foreman turns down the corner, a familiar office room in sight. He was about to announce their newest findings on the case. Yet to the young doctors dismay, House wasn’t in his office. He noted that the man was cleared of clinic duty for the day and practically did nothing else other than mess with people's psyches. 

So where had House gone?

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Foreman searched the whole first and second floor, trying to locate his boss in the maze they called a hospital. Soon he found himself in the least likely of places. Adult Medicine. 

He passed the receptionist, who gave him a strange look.

“Sir, Are you lost?” 

“Oh,” Foreman clears his throat, glancing over at the desk, “I’m just looking for my colleague. He’s probably not here though.”

“What collegue?” The nurse asks curiously.

“Just my boss. Doctor Ho….” Foreman trails off. From the side of his eye, he sees a door to the medical office’s opening. A pregnant woman steps out and right behind her, House. The two looked like they were having some sort of conversation. Nobody looked mad or angry or near fistfights. It looked like an actual human conversation. Which is why Foreman couldn’t control his shock. 

“Sir?” 

Foreman watches a bit longer as the two seemed to be parting ways. A lady joins them, smiling. The two began to walk his way. 

In a strange turn of events, Foreman ran behind the receptionist desk, trying desperately not to be caught. Something told him that he just walked into something bigger than he expected. To think, he came to look for House only to be cowardly hiding in the corner. Dozens of thoughts ran through his head. The first one being the worst of the bunch. 

He waits, holding his breath as he watches House’s limp figure walk past them. He didn’t even look phased. 

Foreman could only watch in disbelief.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“House is having an affair!” 

There was no ice breaker. The whole bucket of water was kicked over with no real sense of danger of saying this. He was just so caught up in what his eyes witnessed to even process.

“What?!” Cameron nearly topples over the microscope all while jumping up in shock.  _ Bang!  _ Her head collided with the top drawer that ironically had a  _ ‘Watch your Head _ ’ sign taped on. She groans in pain, grabbing her head.

“I saw House with another woman!” Foreman tells his coworker, making his way over. He must’ve been too caught up in the moment to notice his friend's disturbed expression. 

_ “So?” _

“I checked the case files. The only woman we have is a sixty year old. Unless this lady got Botox recently and skipped menopause, it ain’t her.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cameron shrugs it off, trying to pick up the mess she made. “She could be family.”

“Have you met the man? He doesn't have friends or family outside of Wilson,” Foreman points out. “Plus haven’t you noticed he’s been mysterious lately? Sneaking off randomly during cases with no explanation? Last case when he was pulled away for a phone call and we didn’t see him until the end of our shifts?”

“You’re overreacting. House wouldn’t cheat on Wilson like that.”

“House could run over a puppy and claim he was doing it for the sake of science. He’s not exactly right in the head.” 

“House may be an asshole sometimes but he does care about people,” Cameron defends. 

“Oh really? Weren’t you the one who was mad earlier because House hurt your feelings?” 

“That’s different.” 

“How?” 

Cameron’s mouth opens. Yet words fail to come out. She couldn’t think of anything. She spoke too soon. She hadn’t had her bag excuses open yet. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“Still doesn’t mean he’s having an affair.”

“Lady was pregnant and smiling. Unless House was completely invisible, nobody should be smiling at House!” It was like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. It started to make sense. The strange disappearances, random texts-House was cheating on Wilson.

“I don’t know. It just seems odd.” 

“Everything seems odd! It’s freaking House!” 

“I’m sure there’s another explanation,” Cameron reasons, shrugging.

“Another reason for what?” The two Doctors jump, eyes bulging out. Like kids caught red handed, they turns, dramatically trying to act as if the conversation had never happened. 

“F-For the lymph nodes. They were swollen. Foreman was thinking it could be cancer.” 

“Oh, if Foreman thinks it’s true, it must be!” The rebuttal did nothing to lighten the air. The tension was already dangerously high. Foreman was swearing in his uniform in a room with an AC vent right above him. 

“Y-Yeah, it was a stupid idea.” 

House’s gaze tightens. Like a hawk watching its prey, his eyes fixated on the nervous man. Eyes trailing up and down. Suspicion written all over his face.

“It could be Strep Throat!” Cameron butts in, trying to diverge the heat.

“Sure, lets just ignore every other symptom, why don’t you?”

“The hallucinations and migraines predate the sickness. It’s possible the two aren’t related.” 

House gaze lingers on the man a bit longer. Watching a man sweat bullets was quite the sight. Though he ends up pulling his gaze away, turning to Cameron. 

“They’re related.”

“Kid could just have a big imagination.” 

“Sure, he just imagined every-“ House pauses, stuck as his tight face loosens. His eyes grow twice the size, his lips parting into an  _ ‘O’ _ shape. He was having his moment. Where everything came crashing into place.

“EBV.”

“Epstein-Barr virus?”

“Explains the kids physical symptoms.”

“But kids his age usually don’t feel symptoms-“ Foreman didn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Kid must’ve caught it when he was an infant. Then again later but this time it came back nastier. Mononucleosis,” House explains, pouring out information like a faucet. “However Momo is still a shitty disease. It’s death rate is lower than Cameron’s bra.” 

Cameron grabs herself, shielding herself from the judging eyes. Her cheeks flushed and head low.

“Okay, but the hallucinations and migraines. Like you said, if they’re both the same thing, then Mono is out. It doesn’t cause the other half of symptoms,” Foreman reminded the doctor. For a moment doubting this diagnosis and House. 

“Not exactly,” House says, “Studies shown, early sign of EBV may take form in episodes. Alice in Wonderland Syndrome. It explains everything else the kid is going through. Hallucinations of ghosts, the sudden lack of coordination, lack of spatial awareness, and mental awareness.” 

“But only about 10-20% of the population have diagnosed cases. It seems like a grasp at straws.” 

“Well it seems like I’ve managed to grab the gold straw,” House fires back. “Start the kid treatment. He’ll be able to go trick or treating this year.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ “That’s it?”  _

“Yeah. Now it’s just a matter of waiting and seeing. However, Doctor House expects him to make a full recovery.” Relieved sigh escapes the parents grasp. Their hands held onto each other as they let gravity keep them centered.

“Thank you!” Cameron is pulled into a strong arm hold, a tight grateful hug. She does her best to make the family comfortable as they took in this major good news. She couldn’t help but smile. Days like these always put a smile onto her face.

“God bless you,” The father tells her. 

“Thank you sir.” Cameron watches the family turn back to their son. Quickly returning to hold their son’s hand as his bedside. Her chest was warm and her lips spread wide.

“Cameron!” 

The young doctor turns, finding a familiar clean shaven and lean doctor heading her way.  _ Davis _ . His busy brows and perfect nose was hard to miss. Mostly because his nose was the only redeeming quality.

“I was wondering if you could take over my lunch break again?” Davis asks, sounding far too confident to be a question.

“Oh...um…-“ Cameron was on the verge of agreeing, taking over another shift when she notices a familiar face looking her way. Piercing blue eyes cutting across the lobby and onto her. 

House seemed focused on her and the situation unfolding yet stood idly by. Just spectating. 

Cameron stutters, losing her train of thought. Her gaze pulled away from House and back onto Davis. She studied his tall figure as she started to shoulder up. Her back straightens, fists tightening.

“Actually, you know what Davis. I can’t. I’ve got other things to do than just do somebody else’s hard work.” The words escaped her before she could second guess. 

Davis looked confused and almost dumbfounded at the rejection. This wasn’t like anything he’s seen before with the other doctor.

From the sidelines, House gave a small tug on his lip. Pride glinting in his eyes. Seeing that happen was enough for the older man to walk away with a bit more bounce in his step.

Cameron turns away, walking away from her scene. The heart in her body pumping, veins tingling. She couldn’t describe it in any other way then feeling like she was on top of the world. Never had she experienced something so...thrilling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this was a dozy. I tried to keep this chapter as tame as I could because of all the heavy stuff going down in other chapters but I still enjoyed it. It was fun. Until I actually had to make a case. Then I was struggling like a sloth in water. 
> 
> Also House may seem extra asshole cause it’s from the others perspective I guess. 
> 
> Anyways I don’t got much to say other than nothing is medically accurate 100%. From my understanding, I’m just a guy with access to Web MD. No doctor. Just feel like I need to make that clear. 
> 
> Okay bye.
> 
> (25!!!!!!!!! Yeeeeeeee!!!!!!!)


	6. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House is stumped on a case, while Foreman and Cameron debate on their current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS:
> 
> In-depth medical descriptions. Some may be disturbing.

October flew by like a breeze. 

The once fun decorations of spooky ghosts cutouts and funny jack o lantern’s were replaced with leaf cutouts and turkey finger paintings by some of the longer term residences. They practically filled every hall, staff door, and billboard. There was no escaping the festive cheer all around. 

House on the other hand had no intent on participating. Deciding no day in the week was special. The idea of holidays is just cheap companies get rich. Which is what led him to his office. Somebody had decided to place two leaves around his name and placed a very old looking turkey with a cane on it as a joke. He tears the thing down in seconds, deeming it a disaster. 

Whoever did it wasn’t gonna get the reaction they wanted that’s for sure. 

Inside his quiet office room, he brushes through the dozens of waiting files to go through. All of them with people begging him to take their case. Most of them were doomed for rejection considering they probably were boring stuff any normal doctor could diagnose if they actually put their head to it. 

Picking up one of the first cases, he opens it. 

_ ‘Hope Annabeth Myers’ _

House rolled his eyes. Never trust somebody with two first names. Especially if their first name is  _ Hope _ .

_ ‘Age: 14 _

_ Symptoms: Hives, lesions over chest, arms, and legs.  _

_ Cause for Consult: Unexplainable appearance and disappearance of symptoms. Patient continues to deteriorate under Hospital care.’ _

House perked up. Intrigued by the case by what he read next.

‘ _ Patient scratch tests negative to common allergies.’ _

Without reading the rest, House was out of his seat, file close in hand. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**_Slap!_ **

A case file is thrown on the table. Foreman and Cameron both look up from their respective work, seeing House making his way to the bored already. 

No hello, no happy November, nothing. Just straight to the point. Then again, House was always straight to it.

  
  


“What causes a fourteen year old to develop lesions, a burning rash, and hives?” The symptoms are written in the board with a black marker. 

“Allergies?” Foreman offers.

Cameron picks up the file, opening it to read. Her eyes scanned through so she could make some sense of what was going on before she shared it with Foreman.

“Kid tested negative on a scratch test.”

“A scratch test doesn’t rule it out though. Could have another allergy we haven’t tested yet.” 

“Symptoms developed suddenly. Little over a year ago.”

“Allergies can develop later in life,” Foreman rebuts. 

“It also could be Psoriasis,” Cameron adds, trying to contribute to the conversation. 

“Doesn’t explain the welts and how quickly the symptoms disappear.” 

Foreman takes a look over the case, head shaking. “I’m telling you, a patient is probably allergic to something. They fit the criteria.”

“It says the first time this happened, they were at a barbecue in the neighborhood, the second time was inside their home. They have nothing in common.” 

“Find out if Mommy and Daddy dearest traveled lately. I want a full history and make it quick.”

Both young doctors are up, ready to get to work. Leaving side by side. 

House sticks behind, staring at the board, searching for an answer to the puzzle put out for him.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Have you traveled anywhere recently?” 

“No. We’re planning to but after all this happened, we canceled the trip,” The Father says, head shaking. 

Foreman nods, briefly glancing over Cameron who was double checking the young girl. The rash over her body looked nasty and seemed to be getting worse. 

“Any trips to large bodies of water? Lakes, Ocean, rivers?” 

“Other than the neighborhood pool, no!” The mother sounded stressed. Her voice is dark and tone low. She seemed upset over the questioning in general. Why was it taking so long to find out what was happening with their daughter.

“What’s wrong with me?” The daughter asks.

“We don’t know yet. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” 

Cameron steps back, her expression warm and sympathetic. She wanted to apologize to the girl. She seemed to be in tremendous amounts of pain. It was clear on her face. Yet she knew now wasn’t the time to be emotional. Nothing she said could keep the pain away.

“So far all we can do is let the IV drip keep her hydrated and keep an eye on her until we find out what is wrong with her.” 

“So we have to wait even longer?” 

“I’m sorry but there’s nothing else we can do at the moment that can for sure help your daughter.” 

Cameron steps back from the daughter, turning to the drip bag. She notes it’s almost all gone. She moves to replace the bag when she hears what sounds like wheezing. Her eyes travel to the daughter, who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

“I can’t breathe-“ 

“She’s having a reaction!” The mother cries out, calling her daughter’s name out before backing out of the way for Foreman to reach her daughter's bedside. 

Quickly they roll down the bed, looking over the young girl’s body as she continues to gasp for air. 

“She’s blue!” Cameron notes, describing the loss of fleshy color from her face. 

“Her throat is closing!” Foreman pulls out an epi-pen from the hospital drawer, ripping the top off. 

“Administering Epi .5!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Foreman thrusted the needle straight into the thigh. 

Quickly Cameron is bagging the patient, trying her best to help her breath. Yet nothing was getting through. Shaking her head, she tries the next solution. Breathing tube. 

She tries to penetrate the mouth with the hard plastic but something was blocking it from going in.

“Too much Edma! Got to do a tracheotomy!” As soon as the words leave her mouth, eyes fall onto the parents. 

“What’s happening to my baby?!” The mother shouts, sobbing hysterically. Her expression is broken into millions of pieces. Never had someone looked so livid. 

“Get them out of here!” Foreman tells her.

Cameron hands over the scalpel before ushering the horrified parents away. Escorting them out the room to prevent them from seeing this next part. 

“What’s happening?!” The mother asks, begging for answers.

“Your daughter went into anaphylaxis shock. Her throat closed. A tracheotomy is the only way to get her breathing right now.”

“Do whatever you have to! Just please save our daughter!”

Cameron nods before re-entering the hospital room. There she saw Foreman, who looked relieved. 

“ _ She’s breathing. _ ” 

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


House’s office was empty. 

Foreman and Cameron found themselves alone, patiently waiting for their boss as they flipped through files after files. Searching for a sign or reason to this madness.

As they did, tensions rose. The longer their boss was MIA, thoughts began to spiral.

“I’ve paged the man ten times. He’s obviously up to something,” Foreman rats out, his expression thin.

“He’s probably got something important to do or something,” Cameron defends. 

“Or  _ someone _ .”

“I’m pretty sure House isn’t charming enough to get a rat to like him, let alone a full grown person to have an affair with.”

“I know what I saw. House and that woman were definitely friendly.” Foreman flips another page, trying to mask his bubbling annoyance. He couldn’t afford to blow up so early in the day.

“I’m not saying you didn’t see it. I’m just saying you don’t know what you saw. It could’ve just been a patient or family friend. Heck even a secret sister!” The idea would seem absurd if it weren’t for their lack of knowledge of House’s personal life. “We don’t know House well enough. Man lives a private life.” 

“What if it isn’t?” Foreman questions. “What if House is having affair?”

“If he was-not saying he is-we have to tell Wilson.” 

“No way! It would destroy their marriage and quite frankly would make House being our boss even more terrible!” Foreman scoffs. The thought of getting between the chaos was enough to set the man back on the chair without any hesitation. He wanted nothing to do with it. 

“Well, we can’t just do nothing!” Cameron protests, baffled by Foreman’s lack of empathy at the situation. This was their bosses' lives. She couldn’t stand by while one of them lie to teach others about something as deep as a marriage. 

“Yeah we can, it’s called minding your own business,” Foreman snaps. “Their personal life isn’t our business. We leave it alone.”

“What if it was your partner cheating on you?” Cameron analogized. “Wouldn’t you want your employees to tell you?” 

Foreman didn’t rebut. Instead he stayed silent, staring intently at the file before him. Caught in a hole in a trap that he couldn’t get out of, he sat in it. 

The room goes quiet as both sides let their cases settle in each other's mind. Yet nothing could cut through the throbbing tension beginning to sprout in the room.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Ugh, I can't breathe in this thing.”

Wilson pulls off his red tie. He took a gulping breath of air, glad to be free from the tight rope around his neck.

“I don’t know why you insist on wearing ties. They just make you look old,” House mutters, snacking on a package of dried blueberries. 

“I don’t expect you to understand but Doctor’s have to look professional in front of patients. Not like some hobo that walked off the streets.”

“That’s no way to talk about Cuddy.” 

The room goes oddly quiet for a moment. Brows raise from the older doctor, who seemed to catch onto the uneasiness flowing off the man. 

“You’re hiding something,” House analyzes, brows knitting. His once leaned back position was now pulled closer. He studied his husband with a critical eye. “Patient died? No...you wouldn’t have hidden that. You’re too much of an emotional person to keep that hidden.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” Wilson sighs, tucking his abandoned tie into a drawer. 

“Probably not.” 

“My parents want to come over for dinner next weekend.” The mention of the elder Wilson’s bought House into a loud groan. His annoyed expression speaking louder than words. Wilson’s parents and House never got along. Even before they came out and when they were friends. 

They always had their reasons. Bad influence was written on his forehead by their permanent judgement. They criticized Wilson for practically throwing his life away for a man who had more issues than this world had people. All of them were valid of course. Then when they finally came out, House was really shown an ugly side of the Wilson’s. 

Denial. They refused to believe that their kid, who married a woman and dated them for their whole life, suddenly dates men. It was all good for House but the blow was mostly taken by Wilson. He was devastated by their reaction, spending months hiding away from the world, wondering if he was wrong. Though eventually they came around. Finding peace eventually over a long phone call randomly on Wilson’s birthday. 

Now House hasn’t had contact with the Mister and Misses since their revealing. He had found the strength within him to hate them for everything they put Wilson through. Especially because he had to play Mister Nice boyfriend for six whole months. Wasn’t easy.

Though dinner, that sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. House wasn’t sure if he could contain himself if he were to see them again.

“And I may have also already booked reservations at a very expensive place,” Wilson finishes. 

“I have plans.”

“Doing what?” Wilson asks, feeding into the man’s game for a moment.

“Not being at the restaurant,” House states, moving to get up. 

“Come on House, it’s just one dinner!” Wilson tells him, desperate. “You don’t even have to like them, just go so they don’t think we’re divorcing or something.” 

“Last I check, your parents hated me and wanted nothing to do with me.”

“They’re different now House. They aren’t the same people anymore. They’re working on trying.” 

“Oh, in that case!” 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

House tries to make his great escape, leaning towards the door as he reaches for his cane. He was never the one to make things easy for anybody. 

In a last desperate attempt, Wilson sighs, “If you go, you can have an extra prescription of Vicodin!” 

House pauses by the door, head tilting up in acknowledgment. Clearly he heard the offer on the table. It was nerve wracking for the next few seconds. 

“Dinner you say?” 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


“She went into anaphylaxis. We had to perform a tracheotomy.”

“So, she’s definitely allergic to something,” House mumbles. “Question is what?” 

Both Foreman and Cameron share a look. A lost one that became all too familiar to the older man in the years of working with them. 

“Something she was exposed to in the hospital and outside to have caused it.” 

“She’s had reaction’s before, but mother said never this bad. Usually just some pain and discomfort.” Cameron tapped the end of her pencil against the desk, her brain trying to finish the puzzle that was laid out in front of her for the sake of the child.

“We’re missing something.” House’s eyes skim through the symptoms. “What was exactly happening before the first attack?” 

“Barbecue at their neighbors,” Foreman shrugs. “Parents said she was sitting at a picnic table after playing in the pool when it happened.” 

“Second time she had been getting ready for bed.” 

“There’s more. I don’t have all the peace’s.” Cameron glances back down at the file, drifting through the reported cases. Her expression is somewhat hopeless. 

“Her recent attack happened after our check up. Nurses had just finished administering her and getting a IV drip set up.” 

“Kid doesn’t get worse from getting liquid that could save her life-“ House’s voice comes to a stop. Speechless as the moment of clarity falls over. 

“Here we go,” Foreman mumbles. 

“What is it?”

“What do you do before getting ready for bed?” 

“Uh...shower, brush my teeth-“ Cameron says, unsure of how any of this was relevant. 

“Hate to go to bed smelling like Mom’s meatloaf. So kid showers. Not even fifteen minutes the reaction starts. Irritation and hives appear but go within an hour.” 

“You’re saying she’s allergic to water?” Foreman asks. 

“Aquagenic Urticaria. There’s less than 100 cases in the US alone.” 

“Each reaction is triggered by water. Kid pool party, showering, and getting wet. Each event is followed after contact with it.” House turns to face his crew. “The reason the hospital was the worst, was that the kid was being pumped full of sodium chloride that dissolved in water. Her body releases histamines and as a result, her throat shuts.” 

House drops the pen onto the board after finally putting the missing pieces together. 

“Get her steroids and tell the parents that their kid is gonna need a epi every time she’s in contact with water.” 

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“Allergic to water, Huh?” 

“Some speculate it’s the chemical additives in water, like chlorine, that cause the reaction, rather than contact with water itself,” House notes as two married men walked into the parking lot. 

“Either way, she’s gonna live her life not being able to live with the one thing that’s supposed to keep her alive.” 

“ _ Doctor House! _ ” 

Both Doctors seem to stop, turning towards the youthful voice. Coming their way, a young girl with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. 

Stopping before the two men, slightly winded. She looks up at the older doctor.

“Do I know you?” House asks.

“Ms. Cameron said you were gonna be here. I-I’m Hope! The one who you helped.”

Wilson glances at his husband then back at the girl. This was unexpected for sure. 

“Office hours are between nine-“

“No, that’s okay. I just wanted to thank you!” Hope tells him. “You helped me when other doctors couldn’t. I owe you my life!” 

“I just gave you a diagnosis. Won’t fix what’s wrong with you.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s better than wondering what’s wrong with you every single day. I used to pray to god, asking him why he would do this to me and not give me a reason.” Hope swallows, eyes turning soft. 

“God sent me to you for a reason. You were the answer I was looking for.”

“Are you comparing me to god?” House asks, cutting through the sweet moment with his sarcastic asshole tone. “I mean, it’s great, I’ve never made a tree-“

House is cut off by the teen jumping at him, wrapping her arms around the taller man’s waist, squeezing him. The action left both men speechless. 

Wilson just smiled with his jaw dropped in shock. 

When the girl pulls back, she gives him a friendly smile. Grateful to be alive.

“Don't you have parents to report to,” House says, clearing his throat, trying to get rid of the awkwardness. “I’m sure they wouldn’t be fond of you hugging old men.”

“Dr. Cameron said you’d be mean. My mom always said hugs are the best medicine.” 

“They’re also a great way to pass germs.” Hope doesn’t seem phased by his comments. Instead she turns around, skipping away. One she was far enough, Wilson turned to his husband.

“That was adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“Wait, maybe if you ask her kindly she’d come back and redo it so I could record it,” Wilson playfully teases, watching the older man try to run away from the situation as fast as possible. However nothing could wipe the memory from the other man’s head. He had seen it all and couldn’t forget the touching conversation.

“Brave of you talking to a man with a cane while being within arm's length of said man,” House grumbles.

“You’re too emotionally attached to me to murder me with a cane,” Wilson states, confidence swirling out of his voice. The threat remained powerless as ever.

It was gonna be a long trip home.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do some google research for this chapter and went deep. At some point I had to stop, fearing that I was gonna go too far in my search lmao. As you can tell, not a doctor. Don’t use this to make a diagnoses on yourself. See a real doctor.
> 
> Anyways this is kinda short. Tried to make it a bit light hearted. Posting it also a bit late cause I fell behind in writing this. I got hella distracted by so many things. Also chapters do take time for research. Just so I can make something that isn’t out of this world and grounded in reality. Yeah, a lot of writing. Though, we made it to 27 Kudos! So that makes up for the random gaps between posting I think. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and do feel free to leave a kudo if you’re reading this for the first time. First House Fic, probably not last though don’t take my word on it. Alright, bye!!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is purely for my taste. I’ve only really seen the first two seasons and some YouTube clips of the show and fell in love. Go figure. 8 years later. Fandom might be dead, idk but I had a dream so here this story is. I’m sharing it so I feel less bad about writing it lol. Also I’m not a doctor so don’t expect me to be good at this lol. I’m trying to go for a more realistic approach but then I remembered I don’t get paid enough (at all) to know this much about medical stuff and hospitals. So yeah expect some inaccuracies. But hey, hopefully my writing is strong enough that it makes up for it (probably not).
> 
> Hopefully I didn’t get the personalities too OC. House is probably the hardest yet funniest character to write seeing as he’s a complete asshole most of the time. 
> 
> However for Chase’s mom, she was hard to write. Mostly because there’s nothing known about her and seeing she has to be apart of the story I had to rewrite the whole Robert Chase story so expect a lot of twist and turns along with obvious changes. 
> 
> Anyways to whatever poor soul is actually reading this and is on board for this crack fic, welcome aboard. Glad to see you made it. Whether you’re as deeply involved with this show as I am, I hope you can stay in this journey with me as I write this fic for my own taste.
> 
> Anywho, I guess I’ll just say bye.


End file.
